


Soaked

by atti (attilatehbun)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Public Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-27
Updated: 2008-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-26 12:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10786803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attilatehbun/pseuds/atti
Summary: A little rain won't stop a planned picnic; it'll just change the nature of it.





	Soaked

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For hpchickadee, cause she asked.  


* * *

The pounding rain has plastered her hair to her back in a dark curl, teasing the indentation of her spine. Her fingers play with the sodden hem of her t-shirt before gripping it and twisting it and pulling over her head. Her hair catches on the collar and swings forward, leaving the long, smooth plane of her back bare. Hermione drops the shirt carelessly; it lands with a wet _smack_ in the muddy grass, just as her denims had a few steps back.

Ron follows slowly, his own shirt clinging the hollows of his shoulders, the ridges of his collarbone. He watches, transfixed, as the rain runs in tiny rivulets down the skin of Hermione's back, turning the simple white cotton of her knickers translucent. The rain is cold, he knows that, but staring at her, like this, all he can feel is burning. He doesn't know how much more of this teasing he can stand.

Hermione pauses when she reaches the grove they originally planned to picnic in, back before the skies opened and they both got soaked to the bone. Ron doesn't know what's gotten into her; instead of shouting over the roar of the rain that they needed to go back home, she had leaned in close enough for her breath to tickle his ear, whispered _Leave the basket, I've got a better idea_ , and before he could reply, had gone, walking through the trees and shedding clothes as she went.

Of course he followed her.

And now here they are. Hermione has nothing left but her knickers, her nipples hard and tight and straining against the heavy curtain of her hair. A wicked smile plays on her lips, and she is fucking sexy as hell. Ron can practically feel her nipples pressing into his palms, the gooseflesh of her neck and shoulder under his lips. As if she knows what he is thinking, she cocks her hips and tosses her head back, daring him to move.

Ron's control snaps. He's on her in an instant, lips crashing against hers, tongue plundering her mouth, hands everywhere at once. He cups her bum, tugs at her nipples with his teeth, licks along the length of her jaw. Hermione scratches her nails along the waistband of his pants, venturing ever so slightly inside, and he groans against her throat.

Hermione pushes away and Ron shakes his head, befuddled. But she's not telling him to stop, she's kneeling, leaning back against the wet grass, hair pooling on the ground between her hands. Somewhere along the line, her knickers have disappeared, and she's staring at the tent in his jeans and licking her lips. Ron hurriedly sheds the jeans, and the tip of his erection pokes through the flies of his pants, eager to begin.

But when he moves to cover her body with his own, Hermione pushes him away again. Her mouth quirks and she raises one eyebrow before parting her legs. It's not an invitation - it's a command, but she's leaning back on her elbows, rain hammering at her full breasts and sliding down her bowed body, and he will follow any command she wants to give him.

Ron slides down her body, lifting one thigh over his shoulder as he goes. He slides his fingers through her folds and into her; he is in no mood to tease. The want is far to hot for that now. He lowers his mouth to her, tongue immediately seeking that hard ridge of flesh. Hermione gasps and he looks up. He wants to meet her gaze, but she's looking lower, tilting her pelvis just enough to see his tongue as it circles and laps. Her cheeks are flushed and one hand is digging deep into the wet earth.

Ron has seen Hermione many different ways, angry and sexy and naked and sexy and coming and laughing and smiling and sexy, but never has she looked more free, more alive, than she does right now. It is hard to resist the urge to reach down with his free hand and stroke himself, but he'd far rather come inside her.

He returns his focus to his mouth, lowering it and sucking hard in time with his fingers. Hermione cries out, hips gently thrusting off the ground. Ron releases her, lets his lips trail up to lap at the rainwater pooling below her belly, but she's not having it. She shoves at his shoulder with the flat of her foot until he moves his mouth back down.

Ron settles in. He speeds up the thrusts of his fingers and tongue, occasionally scraping his teeth along her folds. Hermione is moaning constantly now, not-so-gently pushing him back whenever he strays too far from where she wants his attention. He is more than happy to comply.

It is not long before she is close. She reaches down, fingers tangling in his soaked t-shirt, pulling desperately, hiking it up to his shoulders. She digs her nails into his back, the thigh over his shoulder tightening almost painfully, and begins to thrust uncontrollably. Ron redoubles his efforts, fingers curling inside her and sucking hard. She lets out a short, hard cry and goes rigid, muscles clenching around his fingers. He laps gently at her as she comes down, as her muscles relax and she limply lies back against the grass, He can't help but stroke himself as he watches her come back to herself. He sheds his tangled shirt and leans back on his heels.

Hermione's eyes flutter open and she props herself back up. She looks at his hand, firmly squeezing the head of his cock, then looks back up to his eyes. The challenge is still in hers, and Ron grins. Hermione raises an eyebrow. Never breaking her gaze, she cups one of her breasts. Her gaze slides back down his body and she idly flicks at her nipple as she speaks.

"And what would you like to do with _that_ , Mr Weasley?"

~*~fin~*~


End file.
